


Symphonic Metamorphosis

by Cassbuttstiels



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Music, band au, like everybody's in it but most people are mentioned like once so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6148174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassbuttstiels/pseuds/Cassbuttstiels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I opened the door and he pushed his way past me before I could even greet him. “Well?” He hissed, “Where are we going?” He said it as if it were some sort of scandalous thing, when really we were just practicing Hindemith’s Symphonic Metamorphosis. Then again, it was by Hindemith, so therefore it could not ever be that simple. It never was with Hindemith. I swore he had something against clarinets. Nobody in their right mind would cram that many triplets into one piece at unreasonable speeds. Not to mention the high C, or concert Bb, which was about five bars over the staff, and something that shouldn’t have ever existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Allegro

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be four chapters and each chapter is going to be based off of one of the four movements of Hindemith's Symphonic Metamorphosis; Allegro, Scherzo (Turandot), Andantino, and Marsch.

At the end of rehearsal, Ms. Wang called Roderich and I into her office. I knew for a fact it was the triplets that she wanted to talk about, and I briefly wondered if she was going to make that part a solo. As hard as it was, I didn’t want Roderich stealing the show again while I was invisible next to him. Call me salty, but it really sucked when some new guy appeared out of nowhere and turned out to be some prodigy, beating me out for principal clarinet, something that I had worked hours and hours towards. If Ms. Wang wanted it to be a solo, then of course Roderich would get it because he always did. 

  


Either way, neither of us knew what to expect from it. I rubbed my hands together, thinking that maybe, somehow, that would get them to stop sweating. Roderich licked his lips and adjusted his glasses. When Ms. Wang looked up from her desk, neither of us breathed. 

  


“You guys have been working really hard on those triplets, and it’s really coming along nicely but,” of course it was the triplets, I fucking knew it, “I know you two can do better” there it was. She stared at us through dark eyes expectantly. “I would like for you to work on this music together outside of school because I’d like for us to be able to play Movement Two at Festival, but a lot of it rests on that clarinet part”.

  


I glanced over at Roderich. I didn’t mind having to rehearse, and I didn’t usually mind Roderich, but he had his moments. Our constantly competing selves had reason enough to despise each other when it came to band matters. Roderich always was bossing me around, telling me to take this down the octave or tongue that lighter, and while he repeated many things my private lessons teacher had told me before, I didn’t think that he had any say in whether or not I played the music as written or down the octave. After all, my high notes were way more in tune than his. Like I said, call me salty.

  


After Ms. Wang dismissed us from her office, Roderich pulled me aside. “We need to set up a practice schedule,” he said, instantly taking control of things, as he usually tended to do.

  


“Okay, how about Wednesdays and Thursdays? Those are my days off from work. I could rehearse right after school on both days, but I have lessons at 3:30 on Thursdays,” I began, not really looking at Roderich. Instead, I focused on the nicer view of Matthias, a trumpet player with floppy hair and soft eyes. I knew he probably wasn’t the best influence. He’d skipped class on multiple occasions, and it was a well known fact that him, Abel, and Madeline smoked pot. Still, I also knew about his soft spot for nature, as well as legos. It was a pity he was dating that Emma girl. At least she was pretty.

  


I came back into focus on Roderich as I finished speaking. He opened his mouth to speak, and in a nasally voice, “Um, I don’t know if Wednesdays and Thursdays will work. I’m really busy so I have like no free time, Sigurd. A lot of it is stuff we have to do on our own anyways”. There it was. I resisted the urge to smack his glasses off of his face.

  


He said the same thing any time that I suggested times to practice, and apparently the only times he was ever free were the days that I got scheduled to work. It didn’t matter how often we practiced individually, and I wondered if he understood that. It was important, yes, but even if we could individually play our parts perfectly, how could we ever expect it to work out if we never practiced together. I sighed.

  


“Whatever, we’ll figure it out eventually. Do you have any free time this Saturday? I work until three, but then we can at least practice together once and come up with times when we, you know, have more time,” I paused, waiting for Roderich’s answer. 

  


“I suppose that’ll work. Do you want me to come over at four then?”’

  


I nodded, sighing. “Yes, that’s fine”.

* * *

  


Saturday came around and I was glad to get out of work. Nothing like standing for almost eight hours, surrounded by screaming children who wanted you to find toys that the store didn’t even carry. I think that the best part about it all was that then, after explaining to the tired mother and bratty child, that no, Nora’s Toyshop did not carry the ‘Ultra-Mega Robot Dino’ 1997 edition, the mother would shoot me a look and yell at me about not doing my job properly, and then the child would begin throwing a tantrum. 

  


As I climbed out of my car, the aches in my feet became apparent and pain shot up my legs. I frowned and walked up to my house. I was barely into fresh clothes when the doorbell rang. Roderich. I glanced at my clock. 3:46. I groaned as I walked to get the door. Why did he always have to get to places so early? 

  


I opened the door and he pushed his way past me before I could even greet him. “Well?” He hissed, “Where are we going?” He said it as if it were some sort of scandalous thing, when really we were just practicing Hindemith’s  _ Symphonic Metamorphosis.  _ Then again, it was by Hindemith, so therefore it could not ever be that simple. It never was with Hindemith. I swore he had something against clarinets. Nobody in their right mind would cram that many triplets into one piece at unreasonable speeds. Not to mention the high C, or concert Bb, which was about five bars over the staff, and something that shouldn’t have ever existed. 

  


“This way,” I nodded towards the stairs, and he followed me to my room. I could tell from his expression that he didn’t have very high expectations, but then when we got in there and he saw my ‘music corner’, complete with a couple of chairs and stands, as well as a shelf with volumes of music books and a trumpet and violin, I could tell that he was trying to hide his surprise. Just because I wasn’t as good as clarinet as him didn’t mean I was a bad musician. 

  


Finally, he shrugged and walked over to one of the chairs, setting his music daintily on one of the stands and taking a seat in the chair that accompanied it. “When do you want me to leave?” He asked.

  


I fought the urge to say ‘Now, preferably,’ and muttered “‘s up to you. I don’t really care”.

  


Roderich rolled his eyes, but didn’t speak as he put together his clarinet, reed sticking out of his mouth. I sat down and began to put my clarinet together as well. A pang of jealousy shot through me as I remembered that he had the nicest clarinet in the entire school: a  _ Buffet R13.  _ It made my  _ Leblanc Soloist  _ seem like nothing. 

  


I grabbed my tuner and metronome off of my shelf and sat it on the stand in front of me, and then I played a few notes, starting at the very bottom of my range and going up chromatically. The key was not necessarily to play loud, but to use a lot of air so that the low notes had a dark and full sound. Roderich played tuned himself and then played an excerpt from one of his solos that he had been working on. 

  


Then, both deciding that we were warmed up enough, we tuned together and decided to dig right in. We started with the first movement, because although it was the second movement that was worse off, all of the movements needed a lot of work.  _ Allegro _ was no exception. 

  


We drilled a couple of the rough patches, starting at half tempo to really clean things up, and then gradually speeding it back up to tempo, repeating if we made mistakes. The first movement, in my opinion was the second easiest, after the third, which was admittedly difficult for Gilbert Beilschmidt, who had the  _ pleasure  _ of getting to play the huge flute solo that dominated the second half of the movement. 

  


After about a half an hour, we decided that it was time to start working on the second movement.  _ Scherzo (Turandot)  _ was no easy feat, and anyone I had talked to from other schools seemed surprised that a high school band was able to play it. Of course, were we actually able to play it? The melody wasn’t the hard part. The difficulty was all in the accompaniment, which was filled with trills and triplets. 

  


As soon as we begun playing those dreaded runs, we knew that in order for us to really clean it up and, you know, actually play it, we would have to take it at half tempo, and work it up much more gradually than we had to with  _ Allegro _ . We were able to really clean a few things up, but it was still hard to play them at the actual tempo that our band would take it at for the concert. 

  


We skipped past some of the piece to work on that damned exposed part in the middle of the piece. Maybe it had been okay for violins to play that, but clarinets and violins were two completely different instruments, and the two of us found it increasingly difficult to play that part together.

  


It was probably for the best that Ms. Wang had asked us to rehearse together more often. This movement was a fucking nightmare. Any time I suggested that we take it slower, Roderich would sigh as if I was asking some impossible task of him. I thought it would be wiser to play it through perfectly a few times at a slower tempo and then work it up, as we had been doing with most of the other parts, but Roderich thought that the idea of playing that part any slower than we already were was much too tedious.

  


After about an hour and a half of rehearsal, he decided that he was done with me for the day. We talked through a tentative schedule for the next week, and then Roderich left with little more than a ‘bye’. I glared at his car as he pulled out of my driveway and disappeared down the street. 

* * *

  


After my family and I ate dinner, Nora asked me to help my brother Emil with his trumpet. Nora, my aunt who owned the store that I worked at, was always telling me to help Emil like she couldn’t be bothered with it for some reason. It was through that behavior that Emil began thinking of me as more of a guardian than her. 

  


I’d lived with Aunt Nora for most of my life, Emil and I moving in with her when I was the ripe young age of 8. I barely remembered what my biological parents had been like before we were taken away from them. Even now that I was almost 18 years old, Nora gave me few details about why we were taken away from them, or what they were doing now. Theories had always raced through my mind. When I was younger, I was convinced that they were super villains or monsters, and that since I was their son, I was destined to become evil. Now, I knew better. I assumed that there was probably drugs and or alcohol involved, or maybe even abuse. Like I said, Nora was vague when it came to the topic.

  


I went off to Emil’s room. He had just started playing the trumpet that year. He was in the sixth grade and round in the face. He beamed at me when I entered his room. I sat down next to him and pulled out my trumpet. “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” I said, opening his folder to look at his music. 

  


Of course, with my years of band experience, his beginning band music looked almost comical to me, but one of the pieces brought back memories of when I was in sixth grade band. It was a cute little piece called  _ Dragonfly,  _ and it was rather short. It would have been a walk in the park for me when compared to the 10+ minute pieces I’d played in band on my clarinet, such as  _ Symphonic Metamorphosis _ . 

  


For about a half an hour, I helped Emil work his way through the piece, occasionally stopping him to show him how to hold his trumpet properly, or playing the rhythm how it was supposed to go, and then playing it again with him. He was a fast learner, so he naturally found the piece to be very easy once he got the hang of it, and when he finally played the hardest line through without error, he did a little victory dance. Emil was quite literally the light of my life. 

  


After I finished helping my brother out, I went back into my room to finish up what little homework I had left, and then I went to bed. I had strange dreams that night about reeds falling through the sky and the world being swallowed up in triplets, and standing in the middle of the phantasmagoric chaos was Roderich, his face turned up toward the sky.

  



	2. Scherzo (Turandot)

As Roderich and I rehearsed more and more outside of school, a horrid tension began to boil up between us. He had stopped sugarcoating things and was bluntly rude to me, telling me that this wasn’t good enough or that I needed to practice that line more. He simply refused to accept the fact that any of the mistakes could have been related to him. And every time that we bickered, that image of him staring into the raining reeds plagued my mind.

 

While we were improving, our building tension and dislike for each other did not go unnoticed by our peers. Even Ms. Wang seemed to notice the contempt in our features when we addressed each other. People began tiptoeing around us, afraid to disrupt the delicate illusion of peace.

Somehow, our budding rivalry made us better. Both of us began practicing, both on our own and together, nonstop. The constant trying to one-up each other was beginning to pay off. 

 

One March day, unusually hot for the month and area, we were rehearsing  _ Scherzo (Turandot)  _ in class. It was over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Every once in awhile there would be random, transient heat-waves when it should have been in only the 50s.

 

The school’s air conditioning wasn’t turned on yet because March was supposed to be cold and gross. There were no clouds in the sky and the heat filled the band room, making it awfully hot and humid, which caused everybody to be extremely out of tune. 

 

Earlier that class period, we had been rehearsing  _ Andantino _ , Gilbert had been complaining about the heat, somehow connecting that with the little unrelated errors in his solo. Anytime that he had tried to use the heat as an excuse, Lovino would holler at him from the trumpet section, whatever he had to say generally being filled with invectives.

 

To say that everybody in class was tense was an understatement. As they moved on to Movement II, the air seemed to be filled with electricity. It was the week of their concert, and one of the last times that they would play the piece. 

 

As the piece began, I felt something change inside of me. The anger that I had had towards Roderich was pointless, and I changed it into determination. As the piece began to progress, we didn’t stop to go back. Letters went by too quickly and when we reached P, just measures before the big clarinet soli, I didn’t flinch.

 

As if diving off of a building, Roderich and I plunged headfirst into the solo. It locked in instantly and in that moment, we were perfectly in sync with each other. Our fingers floated over the keys swiftly and we decrescendoed into nothingness as the soli traded off with the second clarinet part. Breathless, Roderich and I turned to each other, sharing a knowing look. 

 

For the first time ever, we had been completely dead on. 

 

We weren’t out of the woods yet. We still had to finish the rest of the piece. As the big brass section of the piece drew to an end, we readied ourselves to come in at T. I took a breath and I played in unison with Roderich, and the back and forth eighth-note parts in the woodwinds were near perfect. Even the bassoon player, who usually rushed, was able to play her part in time. 

 

It was the final stretch of the piece. My veins flowed with the energy that came along with a great success and I felt like nothing could stop me now. As the piece was finished, nobody dared move nor did they dare speak. Ms. Wang slowly lowered her wand and looked at Roderich and I. “You guys, that was amazing,” she said. No sooner than she spoke, the band erupted in a course of whoops and shouts of glee. After all, Roderich and I weren’t the only ones who had been working our asses off lately. Everybody had been, and after getting everything right, it was as if all of the tension was sucked out of the room like a vacuum. 

 

The bell rang and everybody suddenly remembered their lives, scrambling to put their instruments away and head to their next class. Roderich and I stared at each other. The rest of that Friday afternoon was relatively uneventful. I aced my test in marketing, and after school, my friend Tino and I stopped to get coffee. It was nice to talk to Tino. We didn’t really have any classes together this year because we both had different interests. 

 

Tino was enthusiastically telling me about their date with Berwald, who said he didn’t mind when Tino had admitted that they were agender. According to Tino, Berwald had said something along the lines of “Okay? Is that supposed to affect how I feel about you? Because regardless of how you identify, I’ll love you and support you”. 

 

“That’s really awesome,” I murmured, “You’re lucky to have such a caring and supportive boyfriend”.

 

“Speaking of,” Tino began, a grin stretching across their face, “How are things going with Matthais? Has he fallen in love with you yet?” 

 

I chuckled softly, shaking my head “Nah. I’m pretty sure he’s strictly into women, which means my ass is screwed”. Tino faked a pout.

 

“That’s a pity, you guys would be such a cute couple,” they whined. 

 

“Whatever,” I said, taking a long gulp of my coffee. My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. Frowning, I sat my cup down and pulled it out to see who was calling. It was Roderich, apparently. 

 

I gave an apologetic look to Tino, who gestured for me to answer the phone, which I did. “What do you want?” I asked. It came out a little harsher than I had intended, but most things I said usually did.

 

Roderich hesitated before answering my question, “D-did you want to, maybe, hang out?” 

 

My heart skipped a beat for some reason. It wasn’t like Roderich and I hanging out was anything new. I guess it was more that whenever we hung out together, it was strictly for practicing, and most of the dialogue was us spitting orders at each other. The way he said it made it sound like he just wanted to hang out. 

 

“Uh,” I paused, fumbling for the right way to reply, “when? And what did you have in mind?” 

 

From the even longer pause on the other end of the line, I could tell that Roderich hadn’t believed that he would get this far. “Oh! I don’t know. We could play some games, see a movie or watch a show or something? I have netflix.” 

 

I resisted the urge to laugh at how uncomfortable he seemed. “Oh, and any time you want is fine!” He squeaked as an afterthought. 

 

I glanced at Tino, who grinned at me encouragingly. “I can come over in like an hour,” I said in almost a whisper.

 

“Yeah! That sounds good,” he replied, a little too quickly. 

 

“Okay, I’ll see you then, I guess. I have to go now though, so bye” I awkwardly ended the conversation and Roderich said goodbye as well and hung up. I was brought back to reality by Tino, who was staring at me and waggling their eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. 

 

“Who was that?” They asked in a singsong voice.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” I murmured, easily keeping the grin from forming. 

 

“Well, whoever it is, I need full details about everything tomorrow!” They quipped.

 

“Whatever,” I drained the rest of my coffee cup.

 

After Tino and I finished our food, I drove them back home and then went to my place to put my things away. I watched as the clock ticked agonizingly slow, and then when it was time for me to head over to Roderich’s, I grabbed my keys and phone and practically bolted to my car. 

* * *

 

Roderich’s family lived in a big house. When I say big, I mean it was a fucking mansion. He lived with his parents, little brother Bastian, and cousins Gilbert and Ludwig. As I walked up the stone path, I could hear the sound of Gilbert’s flute floating through an open window. I briefly wondered what it would be like to live with somebody like Gilbert. Then my thoughts went to how awful it must be to have everybody in your family be so stuck up, including yourself. 

 

My fist had barely made contact with the door when it swung open and Roderich pulled me in. He didn’t say much more than hello as he dragged me up the winding staircase and into his room.

 

“So…” I began, unsure of where to begin. It felt weird being in his room. I’d been to his house before, but his family was rich enough that they had a practice room installed somewhere, and that was where we had rehearsed before. The walls were a very pale purple, and his curtains - which were drawn - and bedding were a much deeper purple, both accented with glimmering gold. I wasn’t very surprised. In one corner, he had a tv, and next to it there was a shelf of movies. There was also a game console and a stack of games next to its controllers. In another corner, there was a table with three chairs, and on that table was a half played game of monopoly. 

 

“What did you wanna do?” I finally finished.

 

Roderich opened his mouth and began to say something, then cleared his throat hastily, his face turning pink. He shrugged, “Wanna watch a movie?” 

 

“Sure”

 

“Do you have any preference as to what kind?”

 

“Surprise me” 

 

“Suit yourself”

 

The tension in the room was almost unbearable. I watched as his fingers travelled softly over the rows of movies, searching for the right title. Finally, he found one and plucked the disk from its case, sliding it into the DVD player. 

 

“Did you want any popcorn?” He asked.

 

“Nah, I’m good,” I said, glancing around the room for a place to sit. I found a corner in line with the tv with a few bean bags, as well as many pillows and blankets that were haphazardly scattered about. I nodded to myself and wandered over there while Roderich fiddled with the player, skipping past previews and then pressing play when the move popped up. It was  _ Cloud Atlas, _ which happened to be one of my favourite movies. I couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way across my face. 

 

When Roderich seemed satisfied, he made his way over to me and plopped down in the bean bag next to me. Instantly, we were immersed into the movie, with its breathtaking score and tangled stories. I didn’t notice the passing of time, nor did I pay any attention to the fact that as the movie progressed, Roderich and I grew closer together. 

 

It wasn’t until the end of the movie that I realised that we were basically in each other's’ arms. He noticed in the same moment and we both leaped apart in a strange mixture of shock and horror. Then he gave me a funny sort of look. His mouth twisted in an odd way, brows furrowed, and his eyes wandered downwards slightly before meeting mine again. He leaned towards me and nodded questioningly, and I was vaguely aware of myself nodding back. 

 

He kissed me. I kissed him. 

 

He pulled back and stared at me in wonderment. I supposed that I was probably staring back with a similar expression. I made a move to reach for him again, and he kissed me again. His lips were soft. He cupped my face with his hands, touching my skin as if it would fall apart from the slightest disturbance. Maybe he believed that it would. 

 

My thoughts were confused, and thinking seemed impossible at the moment. All that I could concentrate on was the feeling of his lips on mine and the electricity of that moment. We only pulled back from each other again when the need for air arose. 

 

Reality rushed back to me in a way that was dizzying. What the hell just happened? I quickly stood up. “I should probably go now,” I said.

 

Roderich didn’t make any move to stop me, instead, just watching me as I left. 

 

All I could think about for the ride home was his lips on mine and the way he touched my face so delicately. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know anything you liked or think I could improve on in the comments!


	3. Andantino

Monday came all too quickly. My day was alright until I got to band. I felt like everybody knew about whatever-the-hell had happened between Roderich and I only days ago. Roderich was already in his seat, as usual, warming up. He didn’t look up as I sat down next to him and began to put together my clarinet. My friend Arthur, who sat on the other side of me, gave me a funny look. I simply shrugged and began warming up. 

 

Behind me I could hear Matthias blaring something vaguely familiar on his trumpet, and Gilbert was drilling the same two measures of his big flute solo repeatedly. Ms. Wang was discussing something with Ludwig, who absentmindedly twirled the mallets that he was holding whilst listening. 

 

I focused on everybody except for the boy to my right. Ivan Braginsky clambered into the room with his tuba, followed by Amelia Jones, who was basically a trumpet prodigy. She was talking about something with him, and from the animation in her features, I could tell that it was likely some crazy misadventure she had had with Arthur or her sister, Madeline. 

 

Ms. Wang stepped up onto the podium and everybody gradually stopped talking and warming up. We played through a choral briefly and then Roderich tuned the band. Today, we would start with Movement III,  _ Andantino.  _ It seemed cruelly fitting, considering the turmoil that currently wreaked its way through my mind. 

 

Ms. Wang raised her baton and I saw Roderich tense out of the corner of my eye. She brought the baton down and the first sweet notes of the song began as it reached the bottom of its descent. Roderich played each note as if his life depended on it. Then, as he went to play the last note of that solo, his fingers slipped and the wrong note came out. Ms. Wang immediately stopped conducting. 

 

“Let’s play the right notes,” she sighed. 

 

I made the mistake of glancing over at Roderich, who smiled apologetically. He looked like he might break down. I shouldn’t have just left him like that on Friday. 

 

We restarted the piece, and this time Roderich played his solo without error, but it was lacking the rawness of the previous time. It was stiff. As the piece reached Gilbert’s big flute solo, it was as if the room had stopped breathing. Nobody dared make any sudden move. I stared at Gilbert as his fingers floated over the keys, barely seeming to touch them. It was beautiful. I wanted to cry. 

 

The piece finished and Ms. Wang praised Gilbert. She was right, his solo was much cleaner than it had been previously. She dismissed class and everybody scrambled to put their instruments away. I listened as Amelia and Lovino bickered about something behind me, but whatever it was failed to capture me. I looked at Roderich, who delicately cleaned out his clarinet. Then I looked at Arthur, who already had everything packed up. He gave me a funny look and leaned in towards me, cupping a hand around my ear to say something.

 

“Mate,” he whispered, “whatever you did to upset Roderich, you better fix it,” and then he got up and left me. He was right. Roderich and I had kissed and then I’d bolted and just sorta left him hanging. If it was answers that Roderich wanted, however, I wasn’t sure that I could give them to him. I was still very confused and conflicted about whatever the hell had happened on Friday. 

 

I sighed, then closed my case and turned to Roderich. He looked up at the sudden movement. “We need to talk,” 

 

“Sigurd…” 

 

“We need to talk,” I repeated.

 

Roderich adjusted his glasses and nodded. “When do-” he paused, and then his voice grew even smaller, if that were possible, “when do you wanna talk?” 

 

I thought for a moment, and then, “Meet me here after school. We’ll get coffee”. 

 

He nodded, “Yeah, okay”. 

* * *

Terrier’s, a local coffeeshop, was unusually crowded that humid March day. The heatwave that had come about on Friday had passed, and now it was back to the usual high 40s. I bought Roderich and I coffee, and then waited for it to be made. There was only one person working: a freckled ginger named Daniel who was apparently Arthur Kirkland’s cousin. The one time I had brought Arthur up, Daniel had instantly denied any relations to him, so I never touched the subject again.

 

Daniel flitted around the shop, taking orders and making coffees, and I felt bad for him. It was almost never this crowded and he was the only one there. He finished preparing Roderich and I’s coffees, and I took the cups and sat down at the table near the window. Roderich took his coffee and nodded in thanks. Neither of us spoke for a long while. 

 

I gazed out the window, thinking about all of the people on the other side of the glass, letting the scent and sounds of the coffeeshop lull me into a dreamlike state. Everyone had lives of their own, and it occurred to me that while whatever I was currently going through was stressful, those people outside probably had much heavier baggage they carried. Things like death, divorce, and the perils of adulthood. And soon I would be one of those people. 

 

I glanced over at Roderich, who gazed out of the window solemnly, taking slow sips of his coffee. Finally, I sighed, trying to find the right thing to say. We were already there so we may as well talk. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for whatever I was going to say.

 

“We- I,” I paused, searching for words, “I shouldn’t have just left like that on Friday,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. 

 

Roderich shook his head, “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you out of nowhere”.

 

“I kissed you back though,” I paused again, “Listen, whatever happened between us, I honestly have no idea how I feel about it. I’ve been confused about it all weekend, but we can’t really just pretend it never happened”. 

 

Roderich nodded, considering my words. “We could, you know, date,” he said slowly and carefully. “see how things work, if  _ we  _ work. Then we’d have answers. We wouldn’t have to tell everybody if you don’t want to”. 

 

I took a long sip of my coffee and nodded. “Yeah. That’s probably the best way to go about it. Better than just sitting by ourselves and trying to figure out everything on our own”. 

 

“So is that a yes then? Are we dating now?”

 

“Sure”. 

 

Roderich rolled his eyes at me.

 

I shrugged and took another sip of my coffee.

 

“Can I kiss you again, then?”

 

I glanced around the shop, “Yeah, I guess,” I said. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything that was happening at this point. I was just going through the movements of being present, while in reality my mind had run away somewhere. 

 

Roderich sighed and leaned in, tentatively pecking my lips at first, and then when he was positive that the world wouldn’t end, he kissed me more confidently. I kissed him back, and at the back of my mind I was wondering: did I like this? Did I like Roderich? Less than two weeks ago I was sure I hated the guy, yet here I was kissing him. Everything seemed upside down. 

 

Why would I have agreed to hang out with him in the first place on Friday if I actually hated him? Was it the thrill of the day’s earlier success still running through my veins, or did I feel something else, something deeper, something raw?

 

In the midst of my contemplation, Roderich broke the kiss, the need for air arising. I gazed around the coffee shop in my bleary confusion. Everyone continued to go about their daily lives as if the world hadn’t just stood still. I guessed that the world didn’t revolve around me, as much as I would have liked it to, and that all of those people probably hadn’t even noticed me and Roderich kissing. 

 

I looked back at Roderich, something settling deep inside of me. “Oh god,” I said, my voice coming out in a disgusted sort of tone. The other looked back at me, confusion spreading across his pale features. “I think I love you”. 

 

The series of events that transpired next were ones that I can’t really explain. Roderich opened his mouth to say something, but instead of speaking, he just shut it again and grabbed my wrist, pulling me out of the coffee shop. I vaguely remember him taking my keys from me and getting into the driver’s seat of my car, and the fact that I didn’t even try to argue with him. I remember him just driving. I didn’t know where and I didn’t try to ask. Just Roderich driving. Driving and driving and driving for what seemed like hours. 

 

Somehow we ended up at a cabin near some small lake. Roderich unlocked the place and lead me inside. “I want to show you something,” he whispered.

 

The place was comfortably furnished with cozy looking blankets and fuzzy pillows on the couches and chairs, and paintings on the wall. The paintings were beautiful and I assumed that they were from Roderich’s brother, Bastian, but I knew that that wasn’t what he wanted to show me. That wasn’t why we were at least an hour away from home on a Monday evening. It was already dark out. Aunt Nora was probably worried. 

 

He lead me through the main room and into a smaller room that had a cushioned floor that was also covered in blankets. I looked up and I saw the stars. Not those silly glow in the dark stars that kids decorate their ceilings with, but actual stars. The ceiling was glass. I somehow found myself laying amongst the blankets, not daring to tear my gaze from the night sky for fear that it would disappear. 

 

Roderich was next to me, close enough that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted. I debated it, and then I was holding his hand. Neither of us said anything for the longest of times and I would have been content with it staying just that way. It was all ruined, however, by the shrill ringing of my phone. 

 

I was jerked from my trance and back to reality with that unpleasant sound, and even more so when I saw that it was Aunt Nora and that the time read 9:56 pm. How was I supposed to even explain any of this to her? 

  
The moment that I picked up the phone, her distressed voice filled the other end of the line, speaking too rapidly for me to understand. I thought about Gilbert’s flute solo, and how it sang just quick enough that one couldn’t really consider the individual notes (unless, of course, they were the flautist). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your thoughts in the comments and tell me what you liked/disliked!


	4. Marsch (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took so long for me to update, I've been swamped with AP Lit, work, and Pit Orchestra, anyways, here's the final chapter!

 

I ended up getting off easily. I had always been particularly well behaved, so my random trip with Roderich was something entirely new to Nora. When I had first gotten home, she was furious and said I was grounded for a month. I wasn’t concerned because I knew as well as she that my grounding wouldn’t last that long. I ended up being ‘ungrounded’ within three days. 

 

School continued to go by in a dull blur, and in between work, school, and band, I found myself hanging out with Roderich more and more. Neither of us talked about the drive up north, but it wasn’t a bad memory we left stewing. It was more of a “it happened and we can’t undo it so let’s just move on,” sort of deal. I don’t know about Roderich, but I found that moment appearing in my dreams often. It was always vague and distorted, and the stars always seemed to be ingrained in our skin, making it dance and shimmer in the moonlight. 

 

As the land thawed out and spring came along, we moved onto new pieces in band.  _ Symphonic Metamorphosis  _ had been a huge success and the end of that concert had left everybody feeling triumphant, but we still had about a third of a school-year left. I enjoyed many of the new pieces that we received, but none of them had quite the same impact on me as  _ Symphonic Metamorphosis  _ had for some reason. I found myself missing those wretched triplets that tore through Movement II. 

 

As spring progressed, I felt myself falling more and more for Roderich. It was as if me uttering those words had made everything come crashing full force, and it was a strange and light feeling that I couldn’t begin to describe. Normally, I wasn’t a fan of love. I had come to hate it up until this point. My reason? Because anytime I had loved, it was always people who didn’t care. There had been something terrible about caring so deeply for such a long time for somebody who didn’t care: Matthias. 

 

But with Roderich it was a whole new thing. It was a completely different type of love and it was so much better than it could have ever been with Matthias. Roderich was all of the good things that I had thought I’d seen in Matthias, but amplified and without any of the negatives. All through high school, I had thought I was waiting for the cute trumpet boy with floppy hair, but in reality, it was quite different: the pretentious clarinetist who constantly one-upped me, which kept me on my toes. 

 

April flew by, followed by May, and then we quickly found that it was our last week of school. Commencement was next week. After that, summer, and then finally: college. It was scary to think about, even if neither of us were going far. We were both going to MSU.   

It was lunch and the sun hung over us like some sort of impending doom. I lay in the grass outside of the school, arms draped over my eyes. Roderich sat in the grass beside me, slowly eating a sandwich. Arthur was sitting on my other side, talking about some  _ Harry Potter  _ fanfic that he was writing.  Tino lay spread out nearby, clad in a floral dress. 

 

“Anyways, the key is to make it seem like Draco and Harry are gonna be enemies. They’re competing against each other for a science project competition and it’s all about being better than the other ya-di-da-di-do, but then it comes out that the supposed enemies have been banging the entire time and everybody is in shock except for Hermione, who of course knew the  _ entire  _ time,” Arthur rambled.

 

I smiled and turned to look at Roderich who chuckled softly. 

 

“What?” Arthur asked, looking between us in confusion.

 

“Oh, nothing, just that that story seems very…  _ familiar _ ,” Tino laughed, catching on quickly.

 

“Buzz off”

 

Tino stuck out their tongue at Arthur, who feigned offense, but eventually burst out laughing. 

 

The four of us finished up our lunches and then continued to bask in the sunlight. Summer was certainly here and vacation couldn’t come soon enough. Within days, we wouldn’t ever be forced to come back to this building again. Everything had a strange feeling of finality.

 

The bell signaling the end of lunch rang and we all jumped up, grabbing our bags and heading our classes: Roderich, Arthur, and I towards the band room, and Tino towards the art wing. We dug into our lockers and grabbed our instruments, beginning to warm up, and then Ms. Wang stepped up onto the podium. We tuned and then she raised her arms and the ensemble took a breath and played. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, sorry that this chapter's so short, it's just kinda like a conclusion to everything!   
> Please tell me what you liked/disliked in the comments so I can continue to become a better writer!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave your thoughts in the comments and please tell me what you liked or what you think I could improve upon!


End file.
